


e petto a petto

by wenigerfrysauce



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23901994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wenigerfrysauce/pseuds/wenigerfrysauce
Summary: Jonathan/Mina slow dancing.
Relationships: Jonathan Harker/Mina Harker, Jonathan Harker/Mina Murray
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	e petto a petto

**Author's Note:**

> so if you follow me on twitter or have to put up with me in real life, you'll know that i'm pretty much a jonathan and mina slow dancing activist. this piece took multiple writes and re-writes as i worked back and forth on it for well over 4 months. it's pretty much my baby, so i'm super nervous (but excited) to unleash this into the wild. all feedback, comments, etc. are appreciated and accepted. i hope you enjoy!

There are nights where Jonathan finds himself sitting in the parlor, staring at nothing.

Mina finds him each time. The cushions shift as she sits next to him, taking his hands in her own and letting him think. She gently presses kisses on each and every faded scar, threading her hands through the silver hair when he allows her. Otherwise, she’ll simply trace the scars with care, asking questions as they fill the night air with low conversation.

“And what did you dream of this time?”

“Nothing, but two red eyes staring at me.”

Jonathan will wake up paralyzed. Mina will awake with her throat raw from screaming.

They know each other’s fears, their limits, both spoken and unspoken. Although healed, skin no longer marred or broken, the past few months are not enough.

He remembers when they had first returned home. As Mina had retired early for bed, she did not question the crucifixes he had begun to pin above the doorways. He had done the same - the still-lit lantern offering a comforting glow as he slipped into bed with her.

Nightmares are few and far between, when he does sleep, while hers fill in the gaps. And without question, they hold each other. The warmth of each other’s arms provided a shield to the putrid caress of long, ghastly nails, and words of love and reassurance drowned out the howling of wolves. He still trembles underneath her touch, but in the morning there’s an unmistakable smile upon them both when they wake up in their shared embrace.

Of course, these instances gradually slow. Slowly but surely. They use the time to talk with each other. To talk with Dr. Seward and Holmwood. And send far-off letters to Professor Van Helsing. They’re fortunate to have each other.

They exchange no words when she stands, offering her hand to him. He takes it.

Mina laces their fingers together, her other hand resting upon his shoulder. Jonathan’s hand settles against her back. They’re pressed close, improperly so, but within the sanctity of their own home, it doesn’t matter. It never does, as long as they’re safe.

They sway, slowly, to the gramophone’s record. And for a long while, they don’t speak. Only the music does, filling the room with its low, soft melody.

She rests her head upon his chest, listening to his beating heart. Against the softness of his nightshirt, she releases a small breath. He traces her spine. Turning her into a spin, her returning lips meet the corner of his mouth with a soft smile.

“You‘ll send letters while you’re away, won’t you?” she asks. Once Jonathan received word of his destination, the seemingly far-off land of Styria, located deep within Austria, they had promised each other to send letters every few days. She had wishes to hear everything, culturally and for his well-being.

“Of course,” he says, taking the inside of her wrist and kissing it, “and not a detail will be spared.”

Jonathan’s eyes are distant.

They stop dancing.

A tentative hand moves from his shoulder to his cheek. “Jonathan, dear.” Her thumb strokes it gently. “You know that I wouldn’t ask such a thing if I didn’t love you. Or wouldn’t miss you.” Her hand is warm against him, unlike the cold flesh that taunts him in his dreams. But then she pulls it away, tilting her head as she stares up at him, speaking tenderly. “You don’t have to suffer alone.”

He unlaces their fingers, grazing her cheek as he tucks a strand of stray hair behind her ear. “I know.” He kisses her forehead before pressing them together, and smiles. A genuine, but somber smile. Her hands splay against his chest.

They stay like this, standing there, locked in each other’s embrace even as the music drawls on. Fingers shift to toy with his collar, but not much else.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to make this much easier.” She laughs bitterly, breaking the silence.

Jonathan wants to reply, but he feels foolish. Guilty - for causing all this pain to her and their friends and himself. As much as she insists it wasn’t his fault, that he’s not to blame, he struggles to believe it.

Despite their kisses, hugs, and everything else they’ve shared, the struggle persists.

He exhales a low breath. “Wilhelmina,” he says, “having you is enough.” It’s her turn to smile, peering down as he rests one of his hands upon her own. “The letters, the dancing, they all help. It only takes time.”

She nods slowly, savoring his touch.

The record hums in the background, the music coming to a stop. She sighs, pulls herself away from him, turning towards the gramophone to shut it off.

He reaches for her hand. “No,” he says, “keep it.”

Mina smiles, and nods again. He pulls her back into him.

And they dance, well until morning.


End file.
